Some Things Stay the Same
by arcadie
Summary: [AU] What if Lord Alan really did have two sons? What would have changed and what things would have stayed the same? -slash-


_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's Note_: Hey, this is an AU (alternate universe) story in which Alanna really _is_ Alan, a boy. Dialogue in italics is taken from Tamora Pierce's _Song of the Lioness _quartet. This story will contain slash, as a warning to those who don't like it. Hope you enjoy the story-

**:Some Things Stay the Same:**

**::Chapter One::**

_"Face it, tomorrow _you_ leave for the convent and _I_ go to the palace. That's it." _

_"Why do you get to have all the fun? I'll have to learn sewing and dancing. You'll study tilting and fencing-"_

Alan woke up with a frown on his face. It happened again. He dreamt of him and his brother except…he wasn't himself. Well, he _was_ and he _knew_ that the young girl standing before Thom in his dreams were _him_ except he really wasn't…a he. In his dreams Thom would always refer to him as "Alanna" but other than that they seemed so real. But they couldn't be since tomorrow, _he_ was actually going to the palace and Thom was going to study magic, like he always wanted to.

Alan jumped out of bed with ease. He always tried to tell Thom about his dreams but Thom wouldn't hear any of it. For someone so obsessed about magic, he didn't care much for strange dreams. He opened the door connecting his room to Thom's.

"Thom? Thom, wake up, it happened again." Thom rolled over in his bed, seemingly still asleep.

"Thom? I know you're awake. Come on, wake up, for your brother at least." Thom finally sat up, rubbing his wide, violet eyes that were identical to Alan's.

"What happened, Alan?"

"The dream."

"Oh don't tell me about that rubbish dream where you're a girl."

"But it's so real, Thom," Alan said, scratching his fiery red hair. "I swear Thom, if I were a girl everything would happen the way it does. You're exactly the same."

"But if you were a girl, I'd have to go to the palace to learn to be a knight instead of you," he said, with a wry grin. "And neither of us would have wanted that."

"I suppose. What do you think these dreams mean?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"You're Thom, the great sorcerer."

"Not _yet_. But look here, Alan, if those dreams bother you that much, would it help if I told you I'd _promise_ to look into it when I study magic? I honestly couldn't help you even if I wanted to, I just don't know enough."

"Then research. It's not that I want to stop these dreams…I just want to understand them. I see everything unfolding as though I'm in the room as a third person. There's you, and there's a girl who looks exactly like us. And I know that she's me even though I'm watching it as though a play."

"How do you know?" asked Thom, his coppery eyebrow furrowing.

"I don't know, I just _do_. She's just like me, you know. She wants to be a knight even though she's just a _girl_."

"Well it's a good thing that you're you then, not her. Or that she's her and you're you. Mithros this can get confusing."

"I suppose it is a good thing, isn't it," Alan said, his expression mirroring Thom's. "Since there hasn't been a woman warrior in over a thousand years."

"When are we leaving today?" asked Thom.

"I don't know. Relatively early? Coram keeps track of these things, not me."

"I hope you'll be okay with that grumpy old guardsman." Alan laughed.

"I like him just fine. It's just that you don't."

"I don't see how you can."

"Well, I don't see how you can stand magic. It scares me."

"Just like spiders but spiders won't kill you now, will they? It's the same with magic."

"Spiders _could_ kill you, if they're poisonous," Alan said, stubbornly, sticking his chin out childishly. "And so can magic so you better be careful."

"I should be saying the same to you. You're going to get knocked off horses, stabbed by swords, and who knows what else?"

"Well I'll try not to." Servants started to knock on the door.

"Gods, have you packed yet?" Thom asked. Alan shook his head.

"We should start lest we be late." So the Alan walked back to his room and opened up his bags and haphazardly put in his belongings. His hand strayed on a little hand mirror that Thom gave him, for scrying, although Alan was unlikely to use it. Any type of magic, even benign magic such as scrying, scared him. But he kept the mirror because sometimes, he _swore_ he could for a second see a young girl, about eleven, look back at him and he _knew_ it was Alanna from his dreams.

Once, Alan had found the courage to venture to Maude's by himself without Thom and ask her about his dreams, before he had told Thom about them. Maude claimed she knew nothing of such dreams and they were likely figments of his imagination or his secret desires of becoming a woman. At that, Alan scoffed.

"Like I'd want to be a girl! All they ever do is sit around and act pretty. I'd much rather be a valiant knight."

"I know," Maude sighed. "But if these dreams are caused by anything, they're from your powerful Gift. It enables you with heightened senses of otherworldly things."

"Well, can't you get rid of it? Would it affect my training for knighthood in any way? Couldn't you take it away? I wouldn't like to cheat to get my shield."

"Calm down, boy. It doesn't affect your dolt training."

So Alan had told himself it was just figments of his imagination although deep down he knew it had to be something else. They were so real after all. Maude also reminded him that if he were to use his Gift for anything, use it for healing. Her words had mirrored almost exactly what the Maude in his dream told the young girl, Alanna. Alan frowned as he pulled on a clean shirt. He wondered what would become of Alanna, even if she only existed in his dreams.

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When Alan rode into the city, he couldn't _see_ fast enough. There were so many colors and goods and his eyes snagged on any polished sword that he passed. He sighed inwardly; he would have to get a sword but where would he get one? It was a good thing that his horse was trained to follow Coram's since he would have definitely gotten lost in the crowd if left by himself.

Unnoticed by Alan or Coram, a young man of about eighteen rode up next to Alan.

"Careful lad, don't let your eyes go springin' out of them sockets," he said, with a wink. Alan jumped in his saddle and turned around to face a swarthy young man with a crooked nose and an even more crooked smile. Coram, without turning around, called, "Hurry up, now, Alan. We're almost there."

"That's my cue to go," said Alan. He was sorry though, since he wanted to talk to the strange young man more. He seemed friendly.

"I'll see you around," he said, hopefully.

"I'll make sure of it," answered the young man, and trotted away. Alan watched the chestnut mare that he was riding enviously but patted old Chubby to urge him to quicken the pace. If the city held this much excitement, what would the palace hold?

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Alan closed his eyes, in embarrassment, hoping when he opened them, the commanding, young man with black hair and his friends would have disappeared. He opened his eyes to no such luck. But Alan was shocked to see that there was a smile playing on the lips of the black haired boy. Alan still wished he as far, _far_ away from here. His stomach felt wretched, twisting with anger at the boy that called him a peasant and with nervousness at the presence of this new group.

"What's your name, fire-top?"

"Alan." Alan cleared his throat a little. "Alan of Trebond."

"Trebond hmm. Gary?"

"Trebond would be the small fief at the border, ruled by Lord Alan."

"Ah, yes, Lord Alan. He didn't adjust to court life, did he?"

"Always to his books," Alan said, allowing himself a small smile as well. It disappeared, however, when an even larger boy kindly informed him that the authoritative, black haired youth as in fact Prince Jonathon.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't know. I mean, your Highness. Oh gods, I've made a mess of things." This time, Prince Jonathon laughed.

"Don't worry, Alan of Trebond." He nodded towards his friends that were fanned out behind him. "The large one's Gary, son of Duke Gareth. The even large one is Raoul." Alan ventured a smile at Raoul since he had told him who Prince Jonathon was.

"The blonde boy is Francis and the thin dark one is Alex." Alan tried to greet them all but quite frankly he was overwhelmed.

"And that pig of a boy that you had the displeasure of meeting was Ralon of Malven, as you might have guessed," added Alex, ice dripping from his voice.

"So I didn't do anything wrong?" Alan asked.

"Not _wrong_ in one sense of the word," Prince Jonathon started, in a diplomatic voice.

"Ralon deserves any pounding he gets," Gary said. "But fighting is against the rules."

"I'd take extra chores any day if it meant Ralon would finally get put back in his place," growled Raoul. A raised hand from the Prince stopped any more malicious talk.

"Come now, we don't want our new friend to think we're the wrong sort of people, do we?" Alan wasn't sure if he could ever think of this crowd as the wrong sort of people. With a slight shock, Alan realized the enormity of the situation. He was face to face with some of the most powerful young nobles in Tortall!

"You need a sponsor, Alan. I'm sure Duke Gareth told you about it," Prince Jonathon continued. Alan could only nod.

"Gary? Do you want to show him around? You'll be fine with him," he assured Alan. Alan nodded.

"That's that then, welcome to the beginning of torture, Alan," said Raoul, with a grin. Alan grinned back; he _was_ welcome.

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a/n: I'm not too crazy about the title, but anyway, hope you enjoyed, please review on your way out-


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